


Knightly Comfort

by CaptMickey



Category: King's Quest (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Touch-Starved, someone just hug him please
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:53:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22168951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptMickey/pseuds/CaptMickey
Summary: Attending Knight School, while difficult, will be fine, so long as he's going to be surrounded by those who will help him be a knight.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	1. A Luke-Warm Reception

"Okay, Graham, deep breaths. It's your first day into Knight School, it's fine. Normal. You have a long family history with knighthood, so just... just deep breaths." Graham assured himself as he stared at his reflection, brushing away any loose wrinkles off his uniform and fixing a persistent cowlick that seemed to refuse to go down. One final tuck of his tunic, he took a breath. "Just breathe."

"Graham, honey! You need to get going!" A voice called out.

"Coming, mom!" Graham answered from over his shoulder. Taking one last look in the mirror, he nodded and left his bedroom, passing the empty living room and to the kitchen where his mother was cleaning her hand of excess flour.

"Good morning, Cookie." His mom greeted, placing down a stack of pancakes on the table and kissing him gently on the top of his head. "Excited?"

"Yeah, and kinda nervous..." Graham admitted, taking a seat at the table. He looked around and saw it was just him and his mother. "Mom?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Where's everyone? Thought they'd be here to see me off..."

"They were going to wait, but something came up and they had to run to town to do some errands. But have no fear, I'm here." His mother smiled and placed a jar of chocolate chips away. 

Smiling that at least someone was here waiting for him, Graham pulled the choco-chip pancakes closer and began to eat, feeling his nerves just slowly start to subside. He looked around the kitchen, already starting to miss his home and the smell of his mother's cooking. But no, this is alright. He was finally on his way to learn how to be a knight! Just like his father and his father's father and his father's father's father. It was an honor to be able to continue the legacy of being a knight, he was excited!

...Right?

He continued eating his breakfast, listening to his mom humming gently as she started to clean the pots and dishes and just trying to calm his excited nerves. Once done, he stood up and took his dish over to where his mom was, rolling up his sleeves so he could start washing it himself.

"Oh, Cookie, you don't have to clean it, I don't want to keep you from heading out." His mother said softly.

"N-no, no, it's alright. I want to." Graham smiled, finishing up his dish. "It's the least I can do... and maybe try to stay a little longer?"

His mom placed her drying rag down and looked at him unamused, but still a small smirk was found at the corner of her lips. "Oh, you."

The two walked over to the entrance of the house and Graham opened the door, showing his trusty steed Triumph standing outside with his luggage placed on him. Graham took a breath and took a step outside when he heard his mother calling out to him.

"Graham, wait." She said.

He looked over his shoulder and saw her hands behind her back. "What is it?"

"I have a small present to give you." She pulled from behind her back a blue cap with a red feather in it. "Ta-da~ your very own adventuring cap!"

"Mom... what?" Graham looked at it surprised, hesitating on taking it. "I... did you make it?"

"Of course, Cookie." She smiled, stepping closer and placing it on his head, just slightly adjusting it. "Can't enjoy the Knight Life and not look the part. And think of it as something to remember us all by if you ever feel homesick."

"I... I don't know what to say..." He admitted, touching the tip of his hat slightly. 

"No need to say anything." His mother reassured. "I just know you're going to be the best knight there is and know that no matter what, I'm proud of you." She pulled opened her arms for a hug and let out a small gasp as Graham quickly rushed to hug her tightly, but soon returned the gesture two-folds. "Now you go out there and show everyone what's what, Cookie."

"Thank you, mom." Graham said as his mother pulled him down so she could give him another kiss on his forehead. "Well, I best be off. I'll write to you! I promise!"

"I know you will, honey." His mom smiled, standing by the doorway.

Graham moved swiftly and saddled onto Triumph, gently petting the loyal steed and looking over to her. He would be lying if he didn't admit that he was already missing his family and home dearly... but he was also excited for the new chapter. Still nervous... but excited. He waved to his mother and patted Triumph. "Alright buddy, let's go!" 

With a small determined huff, Triumph took off down the road and on the way to Knighthood.

~~~

He stood in front of the door to the main hall, having Triumph taken to the stables once he arrived. Graham took a few deep breaths, reminding himself that it was his first day so it was important to leave a good first impression to his potential classmates.

Or was it Knightmates?

"It's alright... just the first day. You can do this, Graham." He mumbled in an attempt to boost up his self esteem and opened the door, seeing a bunch of fellow soon-to-be knights standing about and mingling. Puffing up his chest slightly, he strolled in, looking at his surrounding and hearing faintly the various conversations going about, ranging from armory to types of quivers. He felt excited and saw a small group of would-be knights, quickening his paces just slightly to get to them, the initial nerves he felt initially slowly diminishing. 

"Hi!" He greeted as he met up with the others, grinning from ear to ear and trying to disregard the weird stare they were giving him. "My name is Graham! It's a pleasure to meet you all." Graham extended his hand out for a shake. Instead, they glanced at one another and one of them cleared their throat. "Ah... s-so um... what's on the syllabus today?"

"I actually need to go somewhere." One of the knights said and left, the other few mumbled in agreement and slowly disbanding shortly after.

"Um... guess I'll speak to you all later." Graham sheepishly laughed as he noticed them go and join other groups. "It's fine... they're probably getting some information to whatever they need... oh, wait! Maybe they don't know what's on the syllabus either! That makes sense." Graham placed his hands on his hips, a hint of a blush on his face, "...and now I'm talking to myself." He sighed and went to the next group, hopeful that they didn't need to go off anywhere. 

His enthusiastic grin now just a happy smile, Graham strode to the others, this time deciding to listen to their conversation and see if he could drop into it casually. That seemed to be the thing. No need to accidentally embarrass the others like he did the last group. "But you see, that type of bark while it can stay in the air longer, will not do a piercing strike like the other type." One knight argued with the other. "You need to get it to be a striking blow."

"Oh, really? That makes a lot of sense." Graham spoke up, suddenly noticing all eyes on him. "B-because that would make... I tried using oak once as the main source for the arrow, and it barely stayed in the haystack I practiced with."

"Excuse me?" One of them quirked a brow, more out of annoyance then curiosity. "Do you even know what we're talking about?"

"Uh... kinda. Guess I was _arrow_ -gant in assuming I knew archery to join the conversation." Graham shrugged sheepishly. "Heh?"

The knight stared at the goofy-grinning brunet and just walked away, leaving him standing alone as they joined other groups. Graham rubbed his arm, feeling suddenly embarrassed with himself. He shook his head, trying to shake away the empty feeling. Maybe those knights in particular weren't keen to puns, that was entirely plausible. Goodness knows he knew a few locals that would let out a groan to a pun his father or mother would do.

Still, he couldn't help but feel nervous, especially with how things were at just the meet and greet. He shook his head and touched the tip of his hat, taking in a deep breath. 

It's just the first day, after all... things should get better.


	2. It Was The Heat Of Embarrassment

It wasn’t that orientation was bad, Graham justified, it was just really awkward. Which, he figured, was absolutely fair considering he was what most people would consider a freshman. And more to that, his fellow knights-to-be were also freshmen and perhaps they just had a much better front then he had. They could be fine on the surface, but who was to say they weren’t on the inside?

He stood in line with his other knights as the instructor was walking by shouting roll call. One by one, a name was shouted and the knight in question would confirm their presence, some shouting louder than others and some just sounding bored and that included the instructor who looked to be wanting to do something exciting than this. 

Graham just fidgeted just a little in his spot until the instructor was walking passed the brunet.

“Graham… C… Cracker?”

“Here!“ Graham answered cheerfully.

The instructor looked at him, a brow raised in disbelief as he did a double take between the list and Graham.

“Are you puling my leg, boy?” The instructor glared. 

“No sir, that’s my name.” Graham’s smile faltered just slightly as he heard some snickering from the other knights. “S-see, my parents thought when naming me to have it be somewhat punny because my dad really enjoys a good pun and–”

“I don’t care about any of that.” The instructor snapped. “Cracker… good heaven… and take that feather cap off, boy.”

He muttered in slight aggravation as he went off to continue the roll call and Graham just stood there awkwardly, trying to lower the tip of his hat over his face just a little bit, unable to ignore the others snickering and mumbling behind his back.

He stood corrected: Orientation wasn’t awkward… roll call was.

~~~

If roll call wasn't bad enough, the warm up laps was a very close contender. 

Graham didn't deny that when it came to physical endurance, in fact, he acknowledged that that was an aspect that he needed to work on while living at home. Though, he suppose it was foolish to think that everyone else would be just as out of breath as he was when it came to that. Especially when he saw his fellow trainees rushing by and barely looking to be exhausted from the warm ups, but maybe he only felt more self conscious because every now and again, he would catch one of them looking over their shoulder to look at him and have this weird expression on their face.

Was it sympathy? Or pity?

He couldn't tell as he could only catch a glimpse of a smirk on their face before picking up speed. He... wasn't a fan of warms up, more so when he ended up being third to last getting to the starting point where the instructor stood by and eyed each of them coming back, panting, to their posts.

Graham wobbled to his post, feeling his legs shaking and trying desperately to not gulp in air when the instructor walked in front of him with that unreadable expression of theirs. 'Maybe he's checking on my well being? That's very nice of him.' Graham thought, 'Probably one of those hard exterior but soft interior kind of personality.' His shaky smile quickly slipped away as the instructor scowled and heard that snickering again. Confused as to why, he looked around and saw the trainees all posed in a salute but quickly shutting up when the instructor side-eyed them. He stumbled quickly into a shaking salute, that nervous feeling creeping slowly in his stomach.

"Are you sure you're meant to be a knight?" He asked in a low growl. 

"I... yes." Graham nodded nervously.

"Are you sure about that? Maybe you should be a jester or a pastry chef."

"I came from a long line of knights protecting the crown. I'm meant to be a knight." 

"Really?"

"Yeah, I--"

The instructor crossed their arms. "Because if you were guarding the crown, at that rate of how you yammer versus how you ran, they would've been dethroned."

"I'm sorry..." Graham gulped. 

"More to that, Cracker, you haven't shown any proper etiquette such as the basic salute." He barked. "You address me as 'sir' is that clear?!"

He felt wash in a numb sensation. "Y-yes, sir."

As the instructor huffed and stormed away, going on and about how some forms of the trainees were sloppier than others, Graham felt his cheeks burning with embarrassment as he heard the instructor bark out an order while the sparse snickering resurfaced. For a brief moment, he looked at the knight next to him, noticing that that the same trainee from the track was once again glancing his way for a short while before turning their attention back at the lecture at hand. And again, he couldn't tell if they were sympathetic or pity... but all he could hope for was for this portion of the day to finally wrap up so he could finally move on.

~~~

Graham let out a sigh as he took a seat in the auditorium, leaning his head back slightly in relief to finally be out of the burning sun as he placed his hat on the desk in front of him, glancing at it slightly. It theoretically could have been prevented him from feeling the hot sun had he been allowed to wear his feathered cap, but the instructor admittedly scared him too much to argue otherwise and instead was placed inside the locker room. And it was the first thing he nabbed alongside a notebook and a quill before heading to the academics portion of knight school. 

He heard a stool scrape across the wooden floor boards and looked over to find the culprit, locking eyes on track runner trainee who appeared to have been looking at Graham in what he would describe as perplexed. At least... he hoped it was perplexed. He looked around just to be sure that the trainee was looking at him and not at whatever there possibly was behind him. Never hurt to be sure, after all.

When all signs pointed to clear, Graham glanced at the trainee and sheepishly smiled, waving at the fellow would-be knight.

"Hi," he scratched his cheek, "Guess we're in the same class! That's neat. Ah, sorry, my name is Graham, but I'm guessing you ah... heh, you probably already heard that by the um... a-anyways, what's your name?" Graham smile faltered a bit when he saw the trainee look away and at the book in front of them. "Uh... I'm sorry, didn't mean to interrupt your reading."

There was a momentary pause and Graham nervously tapped at the table.

"So uh... what book are you reading? Is it good?"

The trainee side-eyed Graham. "What are you getting at, Cracker?"

Graham jumped slightly at hearing the trainee talk back. "Oh, uh... well, I'm just trying to get some small talk? And ah, you can call me Graham, no need to go by last names, y'know?"

"Right." They sighed. "May I offer some advice then?"

"Y-yeah! Yeah, absolutely." Graham smiled, finally, shifting himself slightly to sit closer.

"I've seen how things were for you for the warm ups. It was... intense. Harsh."

"Heh, tell me about it." Graham rubbed the back of his neck. "I just wanted to disappear."

"I saw. It was embarrassing. But with that said..." The book closed sharply. "It would probably do you well to learn to not push for a conversation when the other party doesn't want to engage in one. For example, you come from a long line of knights protecting the crown, yes?"

"Yeah...?"

Their cold eyes locked onto Graham. "Then you need to learn when talked to by Royalty and not initiate the conversations with them. They don't like chatty knights."

"O-oh... um... g-good advice." Graham's shoulders sagged. "I'll keep that in mind, I--" He saw the trainee open their book and looked away, huffing just tad bit.

All Graham could do was lean away and sink just slightly into his chair, trying to melt away to a different part of the auditorium but saw it slowly but surely fill up with other knights as well as what he would assume was the professor. He reached out for the feather in his cap and rubbed it slightly for some comfort.

"Good advice." He mumbled under his breath.


	3. Sharing A Class Called Loneliness

He got a handle on his daily routine as the weeks went by, although it varied from day to day where Graham would excel in. One day, he would be top of his class in the academics aspect, and the next he wouldn’t know the proper term when greeting Royalty. Sometimes he would be able to hold his own while running and some day he would come dead last. It varied, but that didn’t deter Graham in the slightest.

At least... not all the time.

There were admittedly days where all he wanted to do was curl up in the barn where Triumph was and wish the days away. But even he knew that the stables were limited to student only on hours of the day. And more often then not he was too tired to leave his dormitories. 

Sighing, Graham picked up the wooden sword and eyed for a moment. He wasn’t a fan of using a weapon, he would rather use something that would help him keep his distance like a staff or a halberd or even a bow and arrow if given the chance. But they weren’t going to be teaching how to shoot an arrow for a while and for now the wooden sword was the only tool they had for beginners, and Graham was unfortunately still very much a beginner. Well, it’s fine. They wouldn’t teach him useless tools, and what kind of knight would he be if he didn’t know how to handle something like a sword?

He pocketed the wooden weapon and shortly followed the rest of the group outside where the training was about to take place, falling quickly into formation as the sparring instructor walked by to make sure everyone was both properly stance, equipped, and on time. 

“Alright,” the instructor’s voice boomed, “today we’re going to be sparring. The person on your left will be your opponent.”

Graham glanced curiously to his left and noted the trainee. A stout looking kind of fellow whose expression was honestly unreadable but his pose read serious with how straight he was standing. It made Graham a little uncomfortable. With a blow of a horn, everyone quickly paired up and drew out their make-shift weapon at the other, Graham included.

“Alright, ready?” Graham asked his opponent who was just staring at him, their own weapon, while drawn, was not pointed at him. “Uh... you okay?”

“Are you?” The student quirked a brow.

“Um...” Graham looked at himself and then shrugged. “Yes?”

“Wrong.”

“Huh?”

“You’re wrong.” The student huffed. “Your pose is all wrong. You leave yourself wide open to an attack.”

Before Graham could open his mouth, he stumbled backwards from the student’s swing and fell on his behind, the wooden sword pointed at him. “See?”

“Oh. Well, thank you for... pointing that out.” Graham grinned but his smile faltered when he saw the student not understanding what he was getting at. Another poor pun tossed to the waste-side. He stood back up and patted whatever dust off of him and held his sword up again, mimicking his opponent’s pose. 

“Okay, I--” His breath escaped him as he found himself dodging away from the student’s thrusts, each one more aggressive then the last. He tried blocking and instead felt his chest and arms get thwacked by the wooden sword, eventually falling over once again with that weapon pointed at him. “I wasn’t ready!”

“Unfortunately for you, the enemy will never say they’re ready.” The student answered coldly. 

“But you’re not my enemy.” Graham said. “This is just a spar!”

“Thinking like that will cause the crown you claim to want to protect to fall.”

“Jeez, can’t you lighten up just a little bit?” He stuck his hand out for some assistance but instead the student just posed, almost like a mannequin, waiting for Graham to stand up. He dropped his hand and stood up by himself, pouting as the student quickly went back into a fighting pose. Not leaving much of a choice, he begrudgingly lifted his wooden sword up. 

“Where’d you learn to fight lik-- HEY!” Graham jumped out of the way as the student’s sword swung by him. Eventually, he was able to block the blow, protecting his face from the hit. “I’m trying to converse with you! Why are you being so mean?!”

The student, unfazed, just quirked a brow. “Converse?” He took a few steps back, as did Graham. 

“Yeah! Y’know, like... how’d you learn to fight like that? What’s your strategy? Are you born and raised in a home full of sword fighters?” Graham asked, looking at the student who was just staring at him curiously. “Or... maybe a name?”

The student just stared for a long period before nodding. “I see. You’re trying to make friends, is that it?”

Graham perked up just a little with a sheepish smile. “...maybe? I mean, you’re the first person to hold an actual conversation with me so I just thought that it couldn’t hurt--”

“Oh my. How absolutely ridiculous.”

“H...huh?” Graham felt his throat get stuck in a knot.

“Make friends? I’m not here for that. No one is here for that. The only thing that matters is graduating and being able to protect the crown, anything other is useless and shouldn’t be here.” The student scoffed and posed himself, not letting Graham get ready as he lunged again and after a series of strong and painful blows, knocked the brunet back down to the floor, a wooden sword pointed at him, hearing the trumpet indicating that the sparring session is over. “I suggest you either prioritize or leave. You’re wasting yours and everyone else’s time trying to make friends like this is a summer camp.”

Graham stayed on the floor, stunned and disregarding the student walking passed him instead of trying to help him up. As did the other students. He looked at his hand that was nearby his weapon, noticing he was shaking. Looking back up, Graham saw the other students walking by and felt his throat tighten up. 

“Right... right...”

He sniffed and stood up, pursing his lips tightly. He still had a few classes left to go.

~~~~~~

The day came to an end and the students were free to do what they wanted. Some went back to their rooms, others went to train. But Graham stayed in the mess hall, poking mindlessly at the remains of his dinner.

_‘Maybe you should be a jester or a pastry chef.’_

His throat tightened just slightly and he looked around, seeing himself sitting alone at the table. 

_‘Are you puling my leg, boy?’_

He pushed his plate to the side and stood up, leaving the room. The brunet wondered if he should head to his dorms but there was no one there to talk with.

_‘They don't like chatty knights.’_

Again, he felt his throat tightening and his chest turning into knots. He trusted his feet to guide him through the halls of the school. Graham quickened his pace out of the school and out towards the stables.

_‘How absolutely ridiculous.’_

He walked by each stall, passing all the massive horses and steeds until he finally came upon his own, spotting Triumph snoozing comfortably in his haystack, ear twitching just slightly at the sounds of the door to his stall creaking open.

_‘No one is here for that.’_

“H...hey buddy.” Graham’s voice cracked, straining to smile as Triumph lifted his head up to look at him.

_‘The only thing that matters is graduating and being able to protect the crown, anything other is useless and shouldn’t be here.‘_

Graham walked inside and sat on the haystack, sticking his hand out and letting Triumph gently nudge his head into his palm, permitting to be pet. His eyes burned slightly as he began petting the loyal steed. He moved himself till he wrapped an arm around Triumph and rested his head against the soft fur.

_‘I suggest you either prioritize or leave.’_

He rubbed his eyes slightly and then turned his face into the steed, trying his hardest to suppress any noise from himself and felt Triumph nuzzle, as if to comfort the young knight in training.


	4. A New Page

Spite was a hell of a motivator. 

True, it wasn't like Graham to succumb to it, but after nearly two months of perpetual beratement and borderline isolation, he decided then and there to prove everyone at the Academy wrong. He wasn't a quitter, no. 

Graham was determined.

At the crack of dawn before the other roommates could awaken, Graham tossed his blanket to the side and changed into his academy uniform before fixing his bed neatly. Brushing (or just neatly patting down, frankly) his now long brown curls, Graham made headway to the stables to go feed Triumph his breakfast, unable to stop himself from grinning at the happy trill coming from his loyal steed.

"Today's the day, Triumph." Graham spoke in a soft but low tone. "Today I'm gonna show everyone what I'm made of."

An agreeable chirp emitted from Triumph.

"That's what I like to hear." He brushed back some of Triumph's fur before heading back inside to grab breakfast for himself.

\--------

Admittedly in the beginning, Graham had the tendency of zoning off in the middle of a class lecture. It wasn't necessarily because the class itself was boring (well, it was, but he wasn't about to say that openly), but he would find himself instead imagining himself out in the field, protecting the citizens and the crown. The daydream would more often then not be met with the professor showing frustration and that would be shown when they would yank Graham by the ear to reel him back into reality.

He really hoped growing his hair out to cover his ears would have helped prevent it. He was proven wrong whenever the professor managed to find the hidden ear.

What was more frustrating was this one student that Graham was absolutely convinced found his jollies by having to say whatever Graham said was wrong. And stars, it was aggravating hearing repeatedly "well, actually" day in and day out. Graham was normally a patient man, but those two words have caused him to nearly break his quill multiple times.

But that was in the beginning. Now with that addictive feeling known as spite coursing through him, Graham took his seat; books (with a variety of bookmarks sticking out from various pages to the point that it looked more like an art piece than a book), notebooks, quill (emergency spare quills as well) and a jar of ink at his ready as the classroom began to fill up. 

Per the unfortunate usual, Graham found himself sitting alone as the others sat further away from him. Most likely due to word of mouth spreading that Graham was, well, a chatterbox. 

And not too far from him, that obnoxious know-it-all sat down, glancing at Graham for a moment before that irritating cocky smirk of his slithered onto his face.

Today was the day Graham was going to put that... that... that jerk in his place. 

The professor walked in and any slight murmurs were put to a grinding halt as spines of books creaked open. Class was in session.

It started mainly as the history of knights and the knighthood, how each kingdom is for the most part similar in the sense of a knight's obligation of protecting the kingdom. This much Graham knew from the book "The Knight and its Kingdom volume five" on page twenty, second paragraph (it wasn't like he stayed up almost all night practically dissecting the book from cover to cover, perish the thought!) 

"Now then," the professor cleared his throat, "based on the location, who can tell me what line of defense the knight that stands at the entry is?" His eyes looked around the room until it landed on the curly haired brunet who was writing everything the professor was lecturing. "Graham." 

His head shot up. "Yes? Oh, right." He cleared his throat. Time to put that all nighter to good use. "That would be the fourth line--"

"Well, actually..."

Graham's grip on his quill almost made his knuckle go white as he could practically feel it nearly snapping the writing tool in half. 

"They would be the first line." The know it all knight sneered. "I know it's hard to remember that."

Stars, he wanted to throw his book at him.

No. Deep breaths.

Graham placed his sparred quill into the jar and gave a smile back at the student, though no warmth came from it. "Actually, before you rudely cut me off, I was about to explain the logistics of why it's the fourth line."

Murmurs were heard through the classroom. Graham quickly glanced at the professor who didn't appear to be either annoyed or exasperated, (actually, he looked intrigued), and the curly haired brunet stared at the snooty knight once again. 

"Do share." He said venomously. 

"Gladly." Graham smirked. "It's the fourth because you have the patrollers, technically making them the first line. After that, you have the knights within the town square, which, mathematically speaking, makes it the second line. The third line is those standing at the gate to the castle, making those that stand at the entry of the castle itself the fourth line." He savored watching that sneer of the know it all diminish. "Though I suppose, if you disregard the other three lines, then yes. It would be the first."

The murmurs increased as Graham looked straight to the professor, his arms crossed in an attempt to hide his increased shaking but felt some validation as the professor nodded his head.

"That's correct." The professor confirmed. "Good job, Graham."

His heart skipped a beat and he fought his hardest to suppress the urge to jump from his chair. Instead, he just smiled, hearing the grumbling of the know-it-all student. He would have probably felt bad, but someone needed to knock the jerk down several pegs. 

The class continued and for once... for once, Graham wasn't stopped or corrected on an answer (well, except from the professor two times, but it was explained it was a common confusion). In fact, Graham would quickly raise his hand to answer any and all questions without a sense of hesitation. 

For once, he felt like he grew.

\-----

With the classroom method down pat, Graham moved happily to his dorm to drop his books off. He felt a light skip in his step, as for once going to class didn't feel so... humiliating. He was actually grasping new information! 

Books down on his desk, Graham looked over and spotted the familiar blue cap sitting nicely by the window. He picked it up and ran his finger along the soft red feather. As happy as he was to finally get some progress at the academy, he... kind of wished he could share his excitement with someone. 

Triumph wasn't bad to talk to about his day (something he found himself doing everyday now), but he would like to someone that was human. 

He looked out the window and took a breath. It's... it's fine. He was here to learn, and learning he will do. Placing his hat back down on the table, he took another breath and made his way to the next class. The studying aspect he got down to a science.

Next, was the physical part.


	5. Put a Bow On It

"Correct again, Graham." The professor praised as he turned his back towards the class, gesturing to the board behind him and proceeding with his lecture. Unaware that the curly hair brunet silently sunk into his chair as the class bitterly glared at him for answering the question correctly.

It has been like this for a few months now. A part of Graham was both smug at the sudden irritation that the other knights in training were having (that's what they get for underestimating him) and another, but somewhat more prominent side of him was embarrassed at the attention he was gartering from his fellow classmates. He shook his head, he didn't have time to think of how every student's eyes were creating a hole in the back of his head and instead gripped his quill, giving his attention back on the professor's lessons.

The professor cleared his throat and gestured for the end of the lecture, permitting the students to exit the lecture hall. As Graham gathered his belongings, he looked at the others walking passed him, talking among themselves while maybe one or three of them looked his way. He gave a sheepish smile but it never stayed long before he would see them roll their eyes and leave the auditorium.

It was lonely being on top.

Actually, the more he thought about it, the more confused he was. What did his classmates want from him? Did they or didn't they want him to take the knighthood seriously? When he first arrived, he was ignored and even scolded several times that either he takes things seriously or leave. Well, he took things seriously academically and it still didn't feel victorious. Not entirely. It wasn't like he didn't offer them his notes or even help to comprehend the material. They just chose to ignore him and get more irritated.

Well, he thought, that's fine. If they don't want my help, I won't chase them.

He went over his itinerary mentally as he walked down the hallway, figuring what was next. The lecture was done for the day and he won't be getting to the stables to do his stable duty until the end of the day so that meant…

Graham winced. Training. 

He wasn't bad. Well, not nearly as bad as he was in the beginning. His endurance admittedly increased when it came to running and he was already pretty darn good at climbing, if he had a say in it (and he did). It was just the physical combat part that always managed to catch him off guard. Sword fighting, while a basic skill set for a knight, was something that Graham truly did not like. Not bad at it, mind you, just not keen. 

Tying back his hair (a necessity he had to do after receiving an earful from the instructor), Graham grabbed the wooden sword and made his way to the main field.

"Deep breaths. You got this." Graham mumbled under his breath. "Deep breaths…"

He stood in line along the other knights, mimicking their pose and mentally calming himself. Somewhere deep down, he hoped it was another lesson in archery. He wasn't exactly the best (he struggled frequently getting the arrow to stick into that stubborn hay barrel), but he preferred the distance compared to, say, sword fighting, which was not his strongest suit (not the worst, but far from the best).

And thank the shining stars, he had to bite back a grin when he watched the instructor come with the wagon containing the bows.

As the instructor marched down giving his usual shpeal about living by one's weapon, (a sentiment Graham just couldn't get behind), he glared at the curly haired brunet, as if silently telling him he knew darn well what he was tempted to do and was threatening him to not lose that control. Graham, however, was doing backflips in his mind that he was going to leave today without any bruises.

For once.

The knights in training all went and gathered at their designated area, standing beside the barrel of arrows with Graham following suit, unable to stop a smile from slipping onto his face as he began the drill: fire as many arrows, successfully, into the hay barrel. Successfully. Graham’s track record for landing a hit was a grand total of three. On two separate days. But today was different. Today, he intended on making that total at the very least a five. It didn’t need to be bullseyes, but just embedded into the target would be enough of a victory for him. 

He got into a comfortable position (or goofy, as one of the students mocked) and tried to calm his excited nerves when--

“Fire!” The instructor bellowed right behind Graham and the archers began firing, already various arrows landing into their designated targets. Startled, Graham fired and watched it pitifully fall to the floor barely a foot away from his post. He didn’t even need to turn around to know that he was getting that familiar disapproving grumble as he walked away. 

That numbing feeling crept slowly but Graham shook his head. No, not today. No sad thoughts. Today he was going to get at least five--

Another misfire.

...Four arrows.

“You could land it better if you posed correctly.” That ever irritating know-it-all mocked. And as much as Graham wanted to tell him to shove it (and he did. Heaven help him, he wanted desperately to snap and yell at the guy to shut up), Graham just kept quiet as the results spoke louder than either of their words (and frustratingly enough, the guy had at least four arrows in compared to Graham's zero). “You’ve been doing it wrong.”

“Are you gonna help then?” Graham asked, aiming and firing. At least it landed close to the hay instead of his feet.

“No. Besides, you’ll just miss the shot.”

Okay. Then shut up. “Then why bring it up?” Another miss.

“I’m just saying the obvious.” 

Graham pursed his lips and aimed again.

“You’re going to miss again with that pose.”

‘I’m not going to miss.’ His brows furrowed as he drew back the string, his hands shaking though no longer with nerves or excitement. 

“You’re pulling that string back too far.” Another knight spoke up. “It won’t land.”

‘Yes it will. I’ll make sure it will.’

“Especially with that pose.”

He gritted his teeth. But before the arrow could fire, a loud snap was heard and a sharp slap was felt across his face as he gripped his cheek, hissing in pain. The broken bow fell to the ground as Graham cupped the injury, feeling both the sting of the wound and eyes at his direction. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure if it was the cut or the embarrassment that made him feel warm suddenly. More so when the instructor rushed over demanding to know what was happening. 

The other knights went back to firing the arrows, not even sure how to answer. But there was nothing to be said. It was obvious what had happened. 

The instructor glanced at the broken bow and the archer, moved Graham’s hands from his face to examine the mark and scowled when he saw the cut across. 

“You drew the bow back too far.” He commented. “And you broke the string.”

“Yes, sir.” Graham answered.

“See the infirmary. Now.”

“Yes, sir.” He lowered his head and left the firing range, cupping the injury once more as he made his way to the medic bay. 

He tried to ignore the eyes that would look his way as he walked past them in the hallways and open space, fearing more embarrassment would cause the cut to bleed out more (he was nearly certain that wasn’t how injuries worked, but he was studying to be a knight, not a medic). Once there, the nurses looked his way and promptly had him sit down so that they may look. The room was, surprisingly, not entirely empty. A few students here and there with each ailments differing from the next, but none of them had any training accidents like Graham had.

Which, frankly, was even more embarrassing. Why couldn’t it have been a common injury that everyone else had? Like a concussion?

A nurse came over with some bandages and ointment, inspecting the cut on his face while Graham just wished more and more to be buried into the Earth. “Oh dear, another bow accident…” they sighed and dabbed the cloth with something that made him want to cover his nose. He gripped his seat until his knuckles turned white as the nurse cleaned up his face, gritting his teeth.

“Relax your face.” They instructed. “This will go a lot faster if you relax the jaw.”

“Hnngh… yes--” Graham winced, finding it difficult to respond. 

“I swear, you all try to use brute strength to fire.” They patched his face, acknowledging the start of what would undoubtedly be a horrible bruise. “Let this be a lesson for you. Now go and lay down.”

He nodded and moved to a nearby bed, laying down and staring up at the ceiling above, going over his itinerary. It should be nearing dinner time, meaning the day has ended. Graham frowned. He wanted to go and see Triumph, to go and hide in the stables for a bit after the spiral that was the day. Today started off strong… but it undoubtedly ended horrible. The perpetual critiques rung in his head over and over again. The frustrating thing wasn’t the constant unneeded feedback, he has gotten used to it. No, what was absolutely frustrating was something he didn’t want to admit: they were right. If it was just the one guy, then maybe there was room for doubt, but multiple of them? He grabbed a nearby pillow and placed it over his face, letting out a muffled yell of frustration and embarrassment. 

After a brief moment of pillow therapy (and a scolding from the nurse and his wound) Graham continued to stare at the ceiling. Academically, he was secured. But the training part always threw him off. It was annoying… but it wasn’t a waste. Although it was a painful lesson, he did learn what not to do with a bow, which was always good, he supposed. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

“Okay. Today was… not the best. Could have gone better…” He spoke quietly to himself. “Tomorrow is a new day… and I’ll be better prepared.”


End file.
